Twitter: The Grease Trap Of The Human Meat Computer

For a while, I had a capture of my twitter feed running here. It ended up doing something weird to my API calls, stopping me from running my desktop client, so I killed it. Which is probably just as well, as I talk a lot of shit on Twitter. It’s basically mental slurry, the wet lumpy bits from a day spent at the keyboard vented off into a trap so the buildup doesn’t blow some crucial valve in my head. Look at these, from the last month:

* THE MANY SUICIDES OF AQUAMAN: The Loneliness Of The Underwater Crimefighter When There’s No Fucking Crime Underwater

* BATMAN’S FATAL HEADSHOT: His Parents Died Twenty Years Ago, But Only Today Did He Find Their Hidden Rape Shed

* My daughter, hanging off the edge of the sofa she’s converted into a sick bed: "I need baconceuticals, old man."

* pitching new tv series SHIT MY DAD SAYS FROM INSIDE HIS CREMATION URN

* constantly disappointed at how few people habitually refer to me as "Love Swami"

(in re: Thanksgiving, and Yanks wishing me a good one:)

* Here in Britain, of course, it’s Thank Fuck We Got Those Weird Jesus Bastards On The Boat Day

* don’t listen to Wil Wheaton. Chloroform is not a flavour.

* LIE TO ME is all I want from evening television: a bloke from London shouting at people and then slapping them around a bit

* If you love something, set it free. With one of those tracker anklets. With a bomb on it.

* Huddled under a grey blanket in an abandoned hospital listening to Leyland Kirby’s doomladen SADLY THE FUTURE IS NO LONGER WHAT IT WAS

* The word that sums up 2009: "moonwater" or "shitbeetles"?

* the term "beard" shall henceforth be replaced by "crackling virility hedge"

* pitching my new tv show BACHELOR ROULETTE: ONE OF THESE WOMEN IS OFF HER ANTI-PSYCHOTICS AND WE GAVE HER A GUN

* I don’t care what anyone says, I’m changing my job description on my passport to "Space Bastard"

* hammer pneumatic fucking drills into that editor’s face until he has arseholes for eyes oh shit twtter’s on hello there

* when i find out who lost every wine opener in this house, i’m going to fucking flay them and sell their skin as cumrags for crackwhores

* @BRIANMBENDIS why don’t you call people back after you sleep with them YOU VENAL SLUT

* #followfriday: the terrifying pill-and-whisky hallucination I had in 1988 @PinocchioWithScreamingCocksForEyes

* #followfriday multi-lobed "human rat king" with intertwined brain stems living under MI5 HQ in London @MisterSexCortex

* Good morning, sinners. One more day of this bullshit to go, and then we can all kill ourselves at the weekend. So SMILE!

* phoning Hollywood to pitch THE MUMMY IV: I SHIT DUST

* Related: also trying to beat out Joss Whedon’s TERMINATOR pitch with TERMINATOR: I SHIT ROBOTS

* But, coming soon, Sandra Bullock romantic comedy I SHIT NEW BOYFRIENDS

* I have 149,935 followers. The 150,000th must kill someone of my choosing or I will murder their family.

* Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky/ You mustn’t sigh and you mustn’t cry/ Spread a little stabbiness as you go by

* i wish to ride into battle upon a school of Mongolian Terror Trout

* and by "ride into battle" i mean "go to the pub"

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